


And the Bride Wore Pink

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Male Gaze, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Canon, Queer Families, Strong Feelings About Loyalty, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: Bill knew when Johnny asked him to be best man at Johnny and Pat's wedding that they were expecting trouble, but he didn't predict what kind.
Relationships: Bill Guarnere & Johnny Martin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	And the Bride Wore Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt "Bill is best man at Johnny's wedding, but there's definitely more going on with this wedding than meets the eye."
> 
> Fic contains period-typical language around gender and sexuality, and Bill not keeping his eyes to himself.

They'd been training at Toccoa for six weeks when Johnny Martin pulled Bill aside after mess. He had the furtive look of a man who was about to ask for a whopper of a favour, and Bill was already working out something outrageous to ask for in exchange. It was pissing down rain again, and they huddled under the eve of the tar-paper shack someone thought was a building. Johnny lit a smoke and passing it to Bill before lighting his own, another sign.

"So listen," Johnny said, and that alone was enough to well and truly hook Bill's interest. Johnny wasn't usually the kind of the guy to beat around the bush. He said what he wanted, take it or leave it. "So listen, I dunno if I told you 'bout this girl I got back home, Patricia."

"Nah, you ain't mentioned," Bill said. He had a mental catalogue of all the fellows' skirts, rated by attractiveness, with his own Frannie at the top of the heap, of course. Johnny had never said squat about his life back home, let alone shared a picture.

"Yeah, well," Johnny said, like that explained why a man wouldn't talk about his girl with his best buddy. Maybe for Johnny it did. "Thing is, we're getting married."

Bill opened his mouth to holler out the news to Christensen and Muck over by the barracks, but shut up when Johnny shoved him in the ribs hard enough almost hard enough to make him drop his smoke.

"I don't wanna make a big thing outta it," Johnny insisted. He was speaking low, like he expected Sobel or Winters to be lurking around a corner waiting to write him up for matrimony unbecoming of the company.

"Then what you telling me for?" Bill asked. It wasn't like he was a gossip, but he wasn't exactly known for keeping a secret either.

Johnny huffed out a sigh and looked both ways before hissing. "Look, I need a best man, don't I?"

Took Bill a second to put that together, what with Johnny's tone implying he needed someone to stand up with him same way as he needed a tooth pulled. "What, me?" Bill finally asked, just to be sure. He knew Johnny liked him, by virtue of him being one of about three people Johnny talked to at all, but this was something he wouldn't have called.

"I talking to anybody else?" Johnny demanded. "It's not a big deal."

"You put it like that, it's hard for a guy to refuse," Bill said, and put his smoke between his lips so he could pull Johnny into an embrace. He ignored Johnny's elbow in his ribs and pounded him on the back. "Congratulations!"

Johnny stood stiff in Bill's arms until he let go, then said, "Great, I can swing us both three-day passes; we catch the train up to Columbus Friday, get it done Saturday, then back on Sunday. All right?"

"How the hell..." Bill started to ask, but then he caught himself. He had no idea how Johnny scrounged anything, but his lack of belief had never slowed Johnny down. "Yeah, sure," Bill said instead. "Be my pleasure."

"Good." Johnny nodded tightly, and turned on his heel to line up the next thing he needed.

* * *

Despite Bill's doubts, three days later they were both in their Class As, sitting on a northbound train. The run from Toccoa up to Richmond was so packed that they hardly had a moment to talk, but when they changed trains for Ohio, it thinned out enough that Bill and Johnny got a row to themselves. They just had their barracks bags, but Johnny had brought a novel—not even one of those pocketbooks with a flashy cover, but a proper classy-looking hardcover with the dust jacket taken off and tipped so Bill couldn't read the spine.

Bill had some field manuals and a deck of cards in his bag, but was watching Johnny instead of digging them out. He was leaning up against the window across from Bill, curled tight around his book, like he thought Bill was going to try to take it away from him. Bill considered it. He hadn't had a hell of a lot of time to talk to Johnny since he'd been roped into this trip, and looking at the scowling face across from him, Bill didn't see the anticipation of a bridegroom the day before his wedding. He didn't see pre ball and chain jitters, either. What Bill saw was a man on the very edge of his last nerve.

"So what's she like?" Bill asked.

Johnny didn't look up, but his eyes stopped moving across the page. "Who?"

"Patricia, of course, who else, Jesus!" Bill leaned forward so that his forearms were on his spread knees, and laced his fingers together. "What's she like? What do ya like about her?"

"She's the tops," Johnny said, and if he wasn't looking at Bill he wasn't looking at the book either, even if his thumb was riffling the pages at the corner. "Smart, funny, gorgeous, whole package."

"Sure," Bill said, even though if anyone had asked him what he liked about Frannie, he'd have been a hell of a lot more specific and verbose. "I'll bet she is. Show me."

"What?"

"Christ!" Bill held out a hand, and Johnny only belatedly seemed to work out that was what he was supposed to be looking for and fished a photograph out of his inside pocket. He looked at it for a moment, thumb ticking the edge like it had the pages, then turned it for Bill to see.

Bill snatched it, feeling the celluloid whip through the air and studied the image. It was one of those studio portraits that made every dame look the same, nothing like the candid of Frannie in the grass skirt. This one didn't even show off her legs, just a head and shoulders deal with her looking back towards the camera, her hair tucked behind her ear. She was smiling, but like she had been holding the expression a little too long.

"Hey, not bad," Bill said, just as Johnny grabbed the picture back. "So how'd you two meet?"

Johnny tucked the picture away, the care in the action the first sign of real affection Bill had seen. "Friend of my sister. Gina kept bringing Pat round the house and like that, and eventually, well..."

Well indeed, Bill thought. The thing was, it wasn't even like Johnny was only giving vague answers because he was trying to shut Bill up; he just didn't seem to have a hell of a lot to say about the dame he was planning to tie the knot with. They'd been at training for six weeks, almost seven now, and Johnny wouldn't have been much more than a few days—a week tops—in induction before that. That was more than enough time for a girl you'd "eventually, welled" to work out she needed to be someone's missus and quick. In about seven months, Bill'd bet money Johnny would be taking another trip north, and everyone would be offering even more congratulations. Bill just hoped Johnny looked happier about it then.

"You're one lucky bastard," Bill said, slapping a smile over his worry. "Frannie said she' don't want to commit 'til she sees what kinda shape I'm in when I get back." She hadn't said anything like that, but it got a smile out of Johnny, even if he looked like he resented it.

"And she saw you before you left?" Johnny asked, and Bill just grinned at him and wiggled his eyebrows.

They changed trains again in some shithole in West Virginia Bill'd never heard of, but Johnny seemed to find it exciting. He patted the C&O logo as they boarded the new car, saying, "Home sweet home, huh?" And Bill remembered he'd worked for a railway before he'd joined up.

"Where we staying?" Bill asked as they tossed their bags up to the racks. "Your pa putting us up?"

"Nah, Gina," Johnny said. "She'll pick us up." He took the backwards facing window seat, looking back down the line towards Virginia. He was chewing his lip like he did when he had too many hamsters running wheels around in his head.

Bill let Johnny think it out, leaning back in the seat across from him and turning to the rolling green hills outside the window. Seemed like half the company was from coal country like this. Made Bill glad he'd grown up in a proper city.

Finally, Johnny looked up, eyes flashing in intensity, and said, "Listen, Guarnere, you know how in old times a fellow's best man was standing up there armed to the teeth and ready to kick the shit out any trouble that came that fellow's way?"

"Sure, I been to a few weddings like that, not so long ago, too," Bill answered, and didn't add that most of those had also involved girls who needed to have a ring on their finger as soon as possible.

"It's why I asked you," Johnny explained. "Don't know who I trust more to have my back, no matter what. Thought about Randleman, but..." but despite the Bull's size, his easygoing, placid nature made people underestimate him.

Bill nodded, oddly touched. From someone like John Martin, it was just about cutting their palms and swearing blood brotherhood forever. "You got it," he said.

"Good." Johnny didn't say anything else, just tipped his head so it leaned against the glass. He relaxed a little, shoulders dropping and hands falling to his lap, and if he didn't look happy, at least he looked relieved.

Johnny didn't say anything else or go back to his book after that, just sat there watching the country roll away behind them, and eventually Bill got bored enough to dig those army field manuals out of his bag.

* * *

The train pulled into Columbus a little after dark, and Bill followed Johnny as he strode across the platform with the familiarity of a lifetime. It looked like any other train station in any other city to Bill, but at least it wasn't as hot as Georgia. Johnny was jittering like a flea on a hot plate. He broke into a run as they exited into the street, and it took Bill a second to catch up.

By the time he had, Johnny had his arms wrapped around a woman with the dark hair and her face hidden against his shoulder, though she had a good four inches on Johnny even in modest heels. This was Gina, Bill wondered, or the famous Pat of no notable virtues? From the way she'd stopped laughing and started to cry all over Johnny's uniform jacket, Bill couldn't tell.

Bill hung back and let them have their moment. He figured from the similarity in features and the promised ride it was the sister, which didn't explain the crying. Though if this was Pat, did the crying make a lot more sense? Bill had heard that skirts cried a lot when they were expecting.

Finally, Johnny kissed the woman on the forehead and offered her a handkerchief before gesturing Bill over with a jerk of his head. He wouldn't meet Bill's eyes, just saying, "We better get going, huh?"

"Sure," Bill agreed. He waited until she'd finished blowing her nose, and held out his hand to the dame. She had Johnny's wide mouth and green eyes, and definitely wasn't the girl in the picture. "Bill Guarnere."

Her eyes flicked to his shoulder. "Gina Martin, Sergeant, nice to meet you, sorry about..." she said, but didn't specify if she meant the wedding or the tears. Her handshake was firm and her palm a little rough. Bill wondered if she had a factory job like Frannie.

"Not every day your best friend gets married," Bill said congenially. He was still a step behind them as they headed for an Oldsmobile parked just down the street.

Johnny tossed a glare over his shoulder, like Bill had put his foot in it, but his comment made Gina laugh.

"Don't suppose it is," she said. "Though I got the two brothers, so they're a bit more commonplace."

"See if I come up here again," Johnny muttered, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

There was another exchange of looks when she popped the passenger seat forward, but finally Johnny grumbled and got in the back, leaving the passenger seat for Bill. Gina drove.

"It's about ten minutes," Gina told Bill. "Can you get the ring box out of my purse?"

Bill opened the clasp and found a velvet box at the top. He passed it back to Johnny without being asked. Bill tried to catch Johnny's reflection in the mirror, but it wasn't angled right. All he could hear was the box clicking open, a grunt, and then it clicking shut.

"Thanks, Gina," Johnny muttered, and Bill tried to figure out the emotion. Was Johnny embarrassed to have his sister picking rings? It wasn't like he had time himself. Or was it the whole situation? Bill felt like he was navigating on a moonless night without a map.

"I got what we could afford," Gina said, sounding sorry for it. "It's not going to be much of a dress, neither. Just what we could throw together. Least we don't have to do for you. Thank God for the damn army."

Johnny sucked his teeth, and hesitated before answering. Bill sank lower in his seat, but it wasn't like he could pretend not to hear. Finally, Johnny said, "You know me, Sis; ain't like I need nothing fancy."

"Yeah, well," Gina said, but looked sideways at Bill in a way that made him wish he could get out and walk. She changed the topic by asking, "You and Johnny get along pretty well?"

"I'm up here, ain't I?" Bill said at the same time as Johnny groaned like he'd just thought of something. "Why?"

"We're bunking together," Johnny said. "I didn't think of that."

"Only 'cause you're stupid," Gina said lightly. She cut another glance at Bill, but had to look to the road. Away from the sea and the army, nothing was blacked out, and it felt strange after the utter darkness of the barracks at Toccoa. "Johnny and I were sharing a place," she explained, "Then when he signed up, Pat moved in with me, and the couch ain't no good for sleeping. So Pattie can move into my room, but you and Johnny will have to share a bed."

"I'm the baby of ten," Bill said, much more interested in why everyone seemed to be living away from home in their hometown, when no one was married. "Army's the first time I ain't shared a bed."

Behind him Johnny sighed, like he wasn't used to sharing, but didn't have a reason to say no either, but before he could say anything, Gina was parking.

The apartment was nicer than Bill had expected of a couple kids living on their own, sure it was five floors of stairs up, but it had proper bedrooms, not just nooks with curtains, its own bathroom and stove, and windows on two sides. Bill whistled seeing it, looking around and wondering where the other family was staying. His pa had crammed twelve into a space not a hell of a lot bigger than this.

Gina cut eyes at Johnny, then tipped her head towards a closed bedroom door.

Johnny took a deep breath, nodded, and went in, patting Bill's shoulder on the way by. The door clicked shut behind him. Whatever Johnny had to say to Pat his first time seeing her in seven weeks, he wasn't going to say it in front of an audience.

"You know how to cook?" Gina asked.

"Not like Ma," Bill said, though as the baby he'd helped out in the kitchen most of his childhood. "But I spent enough time on KP to know my way around a potato."

"Oh, well, guess what we're having," Gina said and let him into the kitchen. Bill shucked his jacket and put on an apron and started helping peel and chop while Gina tipped broad beans.

Bill filled the space with chatter about the trip up, and Toccoa, and Frannie's latest letter, so that neither of them had to think about the conversation that was happening behind closed doors. He wanted to ask Gina what the hell was going on, but he didn't know here well enough to get a straight answer. He could tell from the tight set in her shoulders, and the way the pans hit the stove that there was a story to be had.

The potatoes boiling on the stove and chicken in the oven, Bill figured he'd laid out enough good will to at least ask what time the wedding was.

"Ten tomorrow," Gina said. leaning back against the counter, her arms folded. "In church."

"I'm Catholic," Bill said reflexively.

"Yeah, figured that out, Sergeant," Gina answered, rolling her eyes. "Good thing you ain't the one getting married."

Bill wasn't sure that was true. He'd thought about asking Frannie, before he went, but she hadn't been sixteen when he'd left, and besides, what if he didn't come back? All he'd been able to do was give her that ring and hope she waited. "I'll get my hair wet before I go in, in case the Lord tries to set me on fire," Bill said. He'd never been in a Protestant church.

"You just stand there and punch anyone who talks wise," Gina told him, and turned to prod at the potatoes, though they hadn't had time to cook.

"Can see how you're Johnny's sister." She was a pretty little thing, now that he looked at her proper, even with the heat of the kitchen frazzling her hair. Her cheeks flushed bright with emotion, and he liked the way her apron pinched her waist in; she had a great caboose. She was about his age, he thought, eighteen or nineteen, and for a moment he thought about asking her if she wanted to take a walk around the block, but that seemed like it'd just make an already complicated weekend worse.

Having determined the potatoes were hard as rocks, Gina turned back to him. She leaned one arm on the cupboard and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, before looking up at Bill like she knew exactly what he'd just been thinking, and wasn't too thrilled about it. Frannie would have told him off, but Gina looked too tired.

"You work today?" Bill asked gently.

"Yeah, switchboard at the steel mill, ten hour shift. Patty too."

"You two are pretty tight, huh?" Bill said, thinking that working together, eating together and bunking together wasn't too different from the army. If you didn't get sick of each other in a week, you'd be friends for life.

But Gina took a sharp breath and snapped, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bill held up his hands. "It don't mean nothing, sweetheart, just nice to have a friend, is all. Someone to count on. Like me and Johnny."

"Oh, sure." She wiped her hands on her apron, smoothing it across her stomach. Her body was still too tense, and Bill didn't know what, if anything, he'd said to put her out.

"My Frannie, she's got a pack of gals, fierce as pirates, the lot of them," he offered. "Too bad you two's unbelievers, or I'd ask her over for a double wedding."

That got a smile out of Gina, and a muttered insult about goddamn Papists, so they were all back on the right track again.

Both their head's swivelled like twined ack-acks at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Bill leaned out of the kitchen, thinking he'd get a look at Pat for once, but it was just Johnny.

He came into the kitchen and started taking plates out of the cupboard, four but he only set three places at the round table by the window. His expression was set, and when he caught Gina looking, he just shook his head and said, "She ain't feeling well. Said to save her something."

Gina clicked her tongue, and looked at the bedroom, brow corrugated with worry.

Johnny set the plates down with more force than he needed to—bang bang bang, like rifle shots—and rattled through a drawer for knives and forks. When he whipped the drawer shut again, Gina winced and flinched.

Bill felt his temper rising, but he didn't know if it was at Pat for hiding, Johnny for storming around like a child, or at the whole situation for not explaining itself. He'd had close to enough of all this, but at the same time he didn't see how he could let Johnny down now, so he took the cutlery from him and finished setting the table.

At least Johnny had gotten beers out of the fridge, knocking the caps off and setting them around the table without bothering with glasses. Instead of going back into the kitchen, he stayed on the far side of the table, staring out into the blackness beyond the window, like he could see the street below. While Gina fussed with draining the vegetables, Bill went over and put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. Johnny didn't flinch so much as his skin quivered under Bill's hand, like a deer trying to shake a fly loose. He was strung just about that tight.

"Hey," Bill said in a low voice. "You okay?"

Johnny shook his head slightly, eyes haunted in the reflection in the window. "Just fine," he snapped, and shrugged out of Bill's touch. Gina had dinner plated by then, and snapped at them to sit down so she could say goddamn grace.

A couple hours and not enough beer later, Gina said she was going to turn in, and bustled around the bathroom doing all the things skirts needed to before they settled down. Johnny stayed at the kitchen table rolling an empty bottle between his palms. They'd talked about the plan for the next day, which mostly seemed to be Gina's doing, but not much mention of Pat had come up. The siblings seemed to have come to some sort of silent accord on that, leaving Bill out of the loop. He was getting pretty sick of that feeling.

"I'm wiped out," Bill said, and headed to the bathroom as soon as Gina cleared out of it. The bed in Johnny's room was a single, but had enough room for two guys who weren't used to much privacy. Bill was at the point of unbuttoning his shirt when it occurred to him that he wasn't exactly doing right by a bridegroom on the night before his wedding. He poked his head back into the kitchen and said, "Hey, you don't want to go out or nothing, do you?"

Johnny looked up at him with absolute incomprehension written across his face.

Bill wiggled his hips, miming dancing. "Last night of freedom?"

"Oh." Johnny shook his head. "No, I... I don't think so. Thanks, Gonorrhoea. You're a pal."

Bill shrugged, a little revealed that he didn't have to drag a wet blanket like that to every bar in town, and worse still find some woman willing to talk to him. At the same time he was a little sad that Johnny, who was usually a good time guy at the bar, didn't seem at all interested in celebrating his own damn wedding. He wished he could do something to make it better, other than ass kicking as required the next day. Everything about this felt all wrong.

"Good night, Bill," Johnny said, putting an end to it.

"Jesus Christ," Bill muttered, and fished through his bag until he found a flask of whiskey and knocked back a few swallows, then stripped down and crawled into bed, rolling against the wall in case Johnny decided to join him any time soon.

He didn't.

Bill didn't know why he woke up, just that he snapped awake like he'd heard something in the dark. His watch showed around one in the morning, and he was still alone in bed. The floor outside his door creaked, and Bill relaxed, assuming it was Johnny finally packing it in, but then he heard a woman's voice. It wasn't Gina, but someone who spoke higher and sounded like a college girl. She was speaking softly, but sound carried well enough, even through the closed door.

"You're not going to bed, Johnny?" Bill couldn't hear Johnny's reply, if there was one. "I can't seem to sleep either. I was going to make some mint tea."

This time, Bill heard Johnny's voice, if not what it said. He rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the door.

"I'll make enough for two, anyway," Pat answered. Bill heard the bustle of filling a kettle and turning on the stove. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he carefully turned the doorknob until he could push it open a crack. His own room was dark, and he didn't think the gap would show against the glare of the kitchen lights.

He saw her from behind first, a pink robe falling loosely from her shoulders so that the edges fluttered when she moved. It hid her figure, but Bill got an impression of someone about his height and curvy. Her dark hair was tied up in a score of little rags, and her red nails tipped long-fingered hands. When she turned, Bill's breath caught. He didn't know what he'd expected from the picture, but it wasn't the strong nose or the dark, deep-set eyes, that went wide when she looked at Johnny.

Bill had worried that she didn't love him, that she was marrying him because of an accident, but he couldn't deny the emotion in her face, the way the thin line of her mouth softened into a small smile when her gaze went to the table. There was a softness in her eyes that Bill associated with Ma looking at Pa, and suddenly his heart felt ease. It didn't seem like a marriage could go bad if that look was in the bride's eyes.

He should have closed the door then, gone back to bed and let them have their peace, but he couldn't keep his curiosity in, not after wondering all day.

Pat poured the kettle into the teapot, leaning against the counter, same as Gina had, and regarding Johnny as she waited for the leaves to steep. Her robe fell away, revealing a plump body with a cotton nightie clinging to it in all the right places. Bill couldn't tell if she was showing any sign of a bun in the oven, but it was early yet.

"You look tired," Johnny said, a care in his voice that Bill had never heard from him.

"Oh, I'm all right," Pat answered, but she didn't sound it. "Just a long day at the mill."

"I could send more of my pay up for you." Bill hadn't realised Johnny was splitting his pay, though he supposed most fellows were. "I'll get jump pay soon, and that'll be fifty a month."

"You don't have to do that." An edge had crept into Pat's voice, and she folded her arms. It did fantastic things to her chest, and Bill knew he should look away. "You don't have to keep me."

Johnny laughed, but he didn't sound like he thought that was funny. He laughed the way he did when he realised that Sobel had conned them again, and he'd been stupid enough to think something better was going to happen. "What else am I gonna spend all that dough on besides my best girl?" he asked, and the bitterness was something Bill associated with Johnny's opinion of the army.

"Don't be like that," Pat chided, but she still looked fond of him, not angry. "You know you don't have to do this, not for either of us. You could stay out of it. Seems to me as though you've got one or two bigger things to worry about, huh?"

"Ha, like I ever had a bigger worry than you and Gina," he said, but without the sour taint to his voice. Bill wished he could see Johnny's face. "You think I could leave you in the lurch? Not if I had to cross forty state lines. Not if I had to go AWOL, and swim back from Manila or wherever the hell they send us."

Pat flushed at that and turned away to pour the tea into two coffee mugs. She carried them both to the table, out of Bill's view. "Keep talking sweet like that, Johnny, and I might just marry you," she teased. The cups chunked against the wood of the table.

"Well that's good. Turns out, I bought you a ring and everything."

"Gina bought it, more like."

"Yeah, but with my money."

"Sure, sure."

A silence followed, and Bill was just about to pull the door back shut, when Johnny said in a voice that was almost plaintive, "I do love you. You know that, don't you, Patty?"

There was a pause, then Pat answered, "Of course I do. Wouldn't marry you unless you did."

"That's good," Johnny said with a sigh.

Then Bill did close the door. He still wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he felt more at ease with the whole thing than he had before. The way those two talked to each other, it had to be enough, didn't it? What more could there be? He thought of Frannie and the spark that had lit between them the first time he'd seen there with her little posse on the street corner, and the way that spark felt like it could burn the world down three years later. He didn't think that same kind of fire was there for Johnny and Pat, but maybe it didn't need to be. Ma had always told him not to try to work out how other people's marriages worked, and he'd always found that to be pretty sound advice, even if it was fun to speculate.

Bill had just about fallen back to sleep when the door opened and shut, and Johnny's belt clinked and his jacket rustled as he undressed in the dark. Instead of playing at being asleep, Bill silently held up the covers for Johnny to get in. It wasn't strange for them; they'd shared a tent enough times in the last six weeks, even snuggled up together in the cool nights of the Appalachians. Johnny didn't hesitate now, just crawled into bed and turned so that his back was to Bill. His skin was cool to the touch as Bill arranged the blankets over both of them, so Bill pulled Johnny against his chest and wrapped his arm over him.

"You okay?" Bill asked, though he knew it was a question Johnny had to be sick of by now, and didn't really expect a better answer than the last time.

"Not really," Johnny admitted, surprising Bill with his honesty.

"Anything I can do?"

Johnny's sigh lifted Bill's arm and let it fall again. "Not really," he said, which was good because Bill had no idea how he'd find the kind of doctor who'd help a girl out in this town. Didn't even know how to find one in Philly. "No, actually," Johnny said suddenly, and the bitterness was back, "you see a guy who looks a lot like me, but younger with lighter hair and blue eyes? Probably be wearing a brown suit. You see him, and he looks like he's going to say one goddamn word to Patty or Gina, can you sock him right in the mouth for me?"

"Sure," Bill said. He was pretty sure he could manage that. "You brother or something?"

"You bet," Johnny grumbled. "Can't believe that little shitheel is related to me, but he is."

"Anyone else?" Bill asked.

"I'll keep you posted," Johnny muttered. He yawned and snuggled down into the mattress. Bill pulled him a little tighter, thinking it was nice to have someone to hold, though probably not as nice as it was for Johnny to sleep in his own bed again, no matter what the morning would bring.

* * *

In the morning, Bill stood in the middle of the kitchen in his shorts ironing his and Johnny's Class As, while Johnny shined their jump boots. He could hear the girls fussing in their room, and wondered what'd happened to the superstition about not seeing the bride before she walked down the aisle. He guessed that Johnny knew what he was in for, and whatever bad luck they might have coming their way seemed to have already found them.

The church was walking distance, and he and Johnny were to go first, with the girls following in the car.

Bill tied Johnny's tie for him because Johnny's hands were shaking.

"You ready?" Bill asked. He patted his pocket to make sure the rings were there. They were.

Johnny's sigh turned into a laugh. "Ask me that again when I'm at the door in a C-47, huh? I might have a better answer?"

"Ha, fine, see if I don't." Bill spat on his fingers and slicked a stray curl away from Johnny's face. In his pressed and gleaming army uniform, he looked better than most men ever would, as fine a man as any bride could walk in a church door and see, Bill thought. He said as much to Johnny, which made him get a soft look in his eye before he cuffed Bill lightly in the ear, and said they had to go.

"I mean, not as good as I look," Bill said, as he followed Johnny out the door. "There's still a chance she'll see me, and think, 'Christ, what am I doing with this lug?' Then we'll be in a pickle, because we'll have to find a real priest, and in a hurry to."

"Sure, then Frannie'd hunt you both down," Johnny agreed, "And Gina'd help. Christ, I hope those two never meet. Sound like they're both enough trouble on their own."

Bill couldn't help but agree, but at the same time he knew most of this was going to be in his next letter home, possibly with fewer incriminating details, and after that Frannie would probably start writing Pat, 'just to have someone with a lick of sense to talk to,' she'd say, and it'd be all down hill from there, and Bill's fault besides.

"Probably better she marries you, then," Bill said, and nudged Johnny with his elbow, which got him a sock in the ribs for his trouble.

The church looked pretty normal from the outside, and the inside wasn't bad either, though the altar wasn't right, and Bill couldn't find the font. Bill supposed he should be glad Johnny was Episcopalian, not Baptist or some shit like that. At least there'd be a priest who looked like a priest here.

Bill and Johnny marched in lock step down the aisle, looking neither left nor right until they got to the space in front of the altar. The priest was there already, and wanted to talk to Johnny about some nonsense that Bill tuned out in favour of scanning the crowd in the pews.

For a home town boy back from the war to marry his sweetheart, it was pretty thin. Bill picked out Johnny's parents in a front pew, and what he assumed was the brother he'd been instructed to punch. The parents looked stoic, the brother was sneering. Maybe a dozen people made up the rest of the bridegroom's side. Pat's side was a little thicker, though just her ma in the first row, there were maybe forty people behind her. Some of them had an odd look, artsy types maybe, and Bill narrowed his eyes, trying to work it out.

"Please rise," the priest said, and the organ struck up the wedding march. Bill snapped to attention, eyes fixed on the open church doors. Gina came in first, scattering flower petals, and then Pat on the arm of someone too young to be her father. She was wearing a deep pink dress, with pearls at her neck and ears, and hair falling in a cascade of black curls. A little half veil perched on her head, ribbons mixing with her hair but not really hiding her face. Some make up trick covered the fatigue Bill had seen last night, but didn't cover the very real blush lighting her cheeks. She kept glancing down and then making herself look back up, fixing her eyes on the front of the church.

It was a long walk down the aisle, every step measured. Bill cast a glance at Johnny, who was biting his lip and blinking hard like he was trying not to cry. Bill leaned in just a fraction, and put his hand on the small of Johnny's back just above his belt, whispering, "You gotta heck of a dame there."

Johnny nodded, just a little tick of his head up, but it was enough for Bill who pulled away. Gina met his eyes and nodded slightly.

It wasn't so different from a Catholic wedding after that. Less Latin, and some of the words were different, but the basics were the same. Johnny held Pat's hands and looked into her eyes, Bill almost fumbled the ring when his cue came up, everyone said "I do" at the right time. The priest even kept the sermonising short, proving that whatever his religion was, he truly was a holy man.

There was a lunch, after, but first they lined up outside the of the church, Gina then Bill then Pat then Johnny. From Johnny's look, Bill was pretty sure bracketing Pat between them was a deliberate choice.

Sure enough, Johnny's parents were first out of the church, his ma apparently being of those sharp-elbowed broads who knew how to navigate a crowd. She hugged Gina, shook Bill's hand, hugged Pat and Johnny. If she'd met Bill more than five seconds before, he probably would have gotten a hug too; he kind of wished he had. For an old lady, she knew how to fill out a dress. Johnny's dad wasn't any problem either, but the brother came right after. He brushed past his own sister with a curled lip and cut eyes that would have gotten Bill the smack of his life, especially in church. Ignoring Bill, he started to reach out for Pat.

Bill sensed more than saw Johnny tensing. Boots scruffed as he started to take a step forward, but Bill was already moving, putting himself in between Pat and Johnny's little shit of a brother, his chest out and his chin up. The kid hadn't been expecting a paratrooper in his face, and took a jerky sideways step to keep from running smack into Bill.

"Whatever ya were about to say, shove it," Bill hissed, and kept his body angled so that he never let the idiot see an inch of Pat.

Johnny's brother didn't answer Bill, but he looked Johnny in the eye and demanded, loud enough for half the church to hear, "You think this is going to work?"

Bill was keeping eyes fixed on the brother, so he didn't see Johnny's expression, but he could guess it from the ice in his tone when he snarled, "Yeah. I do."

Then the brother stomped out of the church, and Bill dropped back into place. He almost ended up accidentally goosing himself as he ran into Pat and Gina's linked hands. They stayed clasped behind him for a moment more, then the line got moving again. At least Johnny's people were the kind of people who pretended not to notice a fight right in front of their noses.

It left Bill wondering though: what was Johnny meant to be getting away with? Was he not Pat's kid's dad? Bill's mind lingered on some kind of torrid love triangle, but dismissed the brother as not having the balls to snag a lady like Pat. Besides, if Johnny wasn't the father, why was he marrying in a hurry? There wasn't a whole lot about it that made sense to Bill, other than the idea that if he ever caught Johnny's brother alone, Bill was going to pop him one out of general principle.

"Thank you for that," Gina said softly as she took Bill's arm on the way down the church steps.

"Hey, it's what Johnny brung me for," Bill answered easily, and though he was dying to ask for the real story, he kept himself to saying, "That bum ain't invited to lunch is he?"

Gina laughed, or rather said, "Ha ha," like she was reading it off the funny pages, and added, "he is, but he won't show after that. Always was a coward."

"Don't see how as he's related to Johnny; not to you, neither," Bill commented, which got him a kiss on the cheek as he handed her into the car.

"I can see why Johnny trusts you like he does," Gina told him, and Bill puffed up at the compliment, even as he couldn't quite work out how he'd earned it.

Bill had to admit that he maybe regretted it just a little that Johnny's brother didn't show up for the lunch after the service, nor for the pictures after that. The photographer was a snub-nosed girl probably younger than Frannie, but she knew what kind of patter would get even a groom as down in the mouth as Johnny to play nice for her camera. Bill asked her to mail him a copy of the one with him and Johnny with their arms around each other's shoulders. Johnny was outright grinning by then, and Bill had always liked the look of him when someone got him to smile.

It reminded him a little bit of being with his brother Henry, Bill supposed, except there Bill would always be the baby of the family, whereas Bill had a good year on Johnny and liked to think that entitled him to look after him. Johnny thought different, but there wasn't much he could do about that now. Either way, Bill'd never met someone who wasn't blood who he got along with so fast or so easily. Maybe they didn't share every secret, or at least Johnny didn't share his, but Bill figured he didn't need to. The trust he had in Johnny was the kind where he didn't have to ask.

The pictures led to drinks at a hotel bar, just the four of them who'd been in the wedding party, and if Johnny and Pat weren't making eyes at each other, than they were at least sharing significant glances, but then so were Pat and Gina, and Johnny kept looking at Bill in a way that Bill couldn't work out. It was like there was some kind of test, and Bill wasn't sure if he was passing or failing it by not knowing what was going on.

Finally, Pat said, "Why don't we get a bottle and move this up to our room?"

Bill had thought that part would have been his and Gina's clue to leave the new couple to it, but they did just what Pat said. Bill footed for another bottle of bubbly and they all ended up in a decent room on the second floor.

It wasn't exactly a honeymoon suit, but it had a big enough bed, and the mattress was pretty soft from the way Gina's behind sank into it as she flopped down across it. Her skirts lifted enough to show a flash of knee, then settled down around her like a flutter of feathers. Pat dropped down beside her, which left Johnny the single chair and Bill the floor.

For all his talk, Bill hadn't been introduced to the pleasures of the female sex until he met that barmaid in Toccoa, but even before that, he had a pretty good notion that this was not how a wedding night was meant to go. They hadn't even opened the bottle, which Johnny was holding between his knees like he'd forgotten it was there. Bill caught his eye, and looked meaningfully at the booze before raising his eyebrows.

Johnny wrinkled his nose and set the bottle on the side table, getting up even though he'd only just sat down. "Hey, Bill," he said in a shoddy impersonation of good cheer, "what do you say we go for a walk, sober up a bit?"

The last thing Bill needed to be was sober, but it wasn't really a request. Bill pushed himself to his feet, watching as Pat got up too. She embraced Johnny, arms tight around his ribs as he pulled her in just as close, pulling her head down so that her face rested against his shoulder. It looked like the last embrace before he left to go to war, and the kiss he planted on her forehead doubly so.

Bill glanced at Gina, but she was watching Johnny and Pat, and he couldn't read her expression.

Finally, Johnny broke from the hug. He looked at Gina on the bed, and then tore his eyes away, and jerked his head toward the door. Bill followed him out.

They walked out into the streets, and Bill knocked two smokes out of a pack, holding them both between his lips as he lit them in one go, then passed one to Johnny.

"Say," he said, not doing a lot better at pretending to be casual than Johnny had, "You don't have no problem with me sharing an apartment with your sister?"

"What?" Johnny asked, with such utter incomprehension that Bill knew that he'd hardly been listening.

They were standing on a corner under a street light that'd only made the barest nod to blacking out. Bill contemplated the cherry on his smoke for a moment before shrugging and saying like it was a sure thing, "When you go back to the hotel, and Gina and I go back to her place. She said you must trust the hell out of me, but that's something else."

Johnny snorted and shook his head. He started walking, and Bill fell into step beside him. He'd gotten pretty turned around, but he'd put a sawbuck on them heading towards Gina and Pat's apartment, and Johnny wouldn't see that hotel room again.

"You ever hear of prairie oysters?" Johnny asked.

"Sure, I guess," Bill said, trying to remember what they were.

"That's what Gina'd do to your balls if you so much as thought about looking at her," Johnny said. Bill could hear a smile in his voice even as his face was hidden between street lights. "But that weren't what she meant about trusting you."

"I'm starting to figure that out," Bill said, which was true enough. "So I guess I'm not gonna owe you another round of congratulations in seven months or so, huh?"

Johnny shook his head. "Not in seven months, not ever."

"How's that?" Bill asked. He was obviously off course. He'd worked out that Johnny was covering for his sister and her lover, but that only needed to last as long as the war did. If they made it back alive, they could get a quiet divorce, and Johnny could marry a girl her was in love with.

"Ain't the marrying kind," was all Johnny said, and he kept walking, his hands jammed in his pockets, his ciggie dangling from his lips. He had a long, fast stride for such a little guy, and Bill had to work to keep up.

"That so?" Bill asked, genuinely surprised. A group of men as big as the 506, a couple of them were bound to be pillow biters, but Bill would never have guessed about Johnny, and further wouldn't have expected him to admit a thing like that, no matter how good a buddy he was.

Johnny was pointedly not looking at Bill, and Bill didn't know what reaction he was expecting. Johnny had said he'd brought Bill up here because Bill was good in a fight, and wouldn't be afraid to chase off trouble. He had to know that also meant that Bill could probably beat the tar out of him if he put his mind to it, but he didn't seem too worried about that, or at least the tilt of his head and the way he had his shoulders slumped told Bill he wasn't expecting a fight.

That was fine; he wasn't going to get one, not from Bill, not on Johnny's wedding day.

"Watcha going to do after the war?" Bill asked.

Johnny shook his head. "You really think we'll make it back?"

"Frannie'll kill me if I don't," Bill answered lightly, but he knew he didn't want to do that to his ma either. She'd fought so hard to keep him out of the army in the first place, threatened to disown him for volunteering for the airborne, and was now grimly facing the possibility of losing three sons to this war.

Johnny didn't say anything to that for half a block. At the corner, he dropped the butt of his smoke and ground it out on the sidewalk. "You're lucky you got a girl like that."

From the way Pat had hugged Johnny, Bill thought Johnny was pretty lucky, too. He'd have those two to look after him, no matter what. It must be something to love someone enough to tell that kind of lie for them. "What's the matter with your brother?" Bill asked.

Johnny sighed and hunched in his shoulders. He looked ashamed, though how any of this was his fault, Bill couldn't figure. "He thinks Pat did something to Gina, you know, to make her like that," Johnny admitted. "Got drunk enough one night that he said a couple things, and since then rumours've been going around."

"Think this'll fix it?" Bill asked.

"I don't know. It was this or leave town, and that'd break Gina's heart. Ma's too. I don't know if she knows or not, what the truth is. I never had the guts to ask."

What would Bill's own mother do if she found out her kids were a pack of queers? Join a convent, probably, spend her life praying for their salvation. Bill certainly wouldn't ever be allowed under her roof again. And his pa...

"You need anything?" Bill asked. "Could go find that brother of yours. Have a word."

Johnny laughed, and it was good to hear. "Naw, just stick by me, and keep your trap shut when we get back to Toccoa, huh?"

"Right," Bill said, but he thought about not saying a word about Johnny's wedding to the guys, and added, "Well, I gotta say I almost made it with your sister, but I kept thinking of Frannie."

"Like that stopped you with that girl in Toccoa," Johnny answered, "and my sister's got better taste than to fall for a mug like yours."

"I'm a good looking guy," Bill protested, "ask anyone." He cut a look sideways at Johnny, wondering if he'd get a feel for being admired in particular, but Johnny just shook his head and scoffed. If he was carrying a torch for Bill, he hadn't lit it.

They were just about back at Gina and Pat's place, and Bill glanced up at the building and then over at Johnny again. They were under a streetlight, and Johnny had that watchful expression again, even as he chewed his lip nervously. It was one thing, Bill realised, to know when of your buddies weren't the kind to marry, as Johnny had put it, and it was another to share a room, maybe even a bed with a queer, no matter if you were buddies or not. There were things normal men drew the lines on, things they used as an excuse to beat the shit out of someone.

Gina had said that Johnny must have trusted him a hell of a lot, and Johnny did, but now was when Bill had to put his money where his mouth was when it came to backing Johnny up, no matter what. "I am a good looking guy," Bill said again, more deliberately.

Johnny shrugged slightly, as if he hadn't thought about it one way or another, and didn't see any point in arguing. The wariness still haunted his expression.

"So you ain't going to get run over by my... my animal magnetism, and make a move on me, are you?"

Slumping sideways, Johnny hung onto the lamp pole, resting his head on the metal and looking like he wanted to give it a couple whacks. That or punch Bill in the teeth.

Bill grinned at him and raised his eyebrows

With an annoyed grunt, Johnny pushed away from the lampost and started to walk across the street to his former apartment. "You ain't that good looking," Johnny tossed over his shoulder.

Chuckling, Bill followed him, and they jogged up the stairs one after the other, Bill's longer legs not quite giving him the edge over Johnny's speed and head start. They were panting and laughing by the time they got to the door, and Bill jostled against Johnny, knocking the keys out of his hands and taking them. He didn't know what was pushing this exuberance, just that it felt so damn good not to have the uncertainty about what was going on looming over him.

When they got in, Johnny took his jacket off, and tossed it over a chair, then followed it with his tie a moment later. He looked as relieved as Bill felt. Hell of a wedding day, he must have had, both wanting and dreading that Bill would discover him. Without asking Bill, Johnny went into the kitchen and got down an unlabelled bottle of something amber, pouring them each two fingers, and passing Bill a glass.

"No ice," Johnny said. Bill's pa raised him on neat whiskey, often shine, and he took it without complaint.

"Cento di questi giorni," Bill said, raising the glass, and Johnny clinked it before knocking most of it back.

"Whatever that means, I'll drink to it," he told Bill.

"Something Pa says," Bill told him. "Old Country thing, ya know?" Though now he thought of it, he wasn't sure he wanted to wish a hundred days like this one on anyone.

"Sure," Johnny agreed, and refilled the glass. Between the drinks they'd had at the bar and the booze they were packing back now, Bill didn't think they were aiming to make a late night of it. Getting up for the early train was going to be more of a problem than not staying up too late.

Bill took a sip of the whiskey. It was shine, but he'd had worse. Holding out his glass, he tried to think of what he should say. This was probably Bill's last chance to ask Johnny anything. They wouldn't have privacy on the train, and back at the camp was even worse. A fellow couldn't turn around twice without running into three nosy sons of bitches who'd love to know his business. But now that he both had the chance and knew what questions to ask, he couldn't think of any.

Johnny was watching him, expression still tight and closed, and Bill didn't like that he didn't seem able to trust that Bill wasn't going to be an ass about this, though of course why would he be?

"So," Bill finally asked, "How long you known?"

"'Bout Pat and Gina?" Johnny asked, and Bill shrugged. "I actually met Pat first, at the kinda party where, well, you know. It don't leave too many questions when you run into somebody there. I already knew Gina was looking, so I brought Patty home, fooled Ma, anyhow. Fooled everyone else for a while, too."

Until it hadn't. It meant Johnny's first story about meeting Pat through Gina had been a complete fabrication. Bill wondered how many versions of the story Johnny had, and if he ever had trouble keeping them all straight in his head. But who didn't polish their life up a little?

"Nice of you to give them the room," Bill said, turning away from Johnny's history. He had left the question open, and Johnny hadn't said anything about how long he'd known about himself. "Risky, ain't it?"

Johnny shrugged and kept his eyes on his glass, like he'd been caught out but didn't want to own it. "It'll be all right," he said. "Gina'll sneak out early. I just..." he hesitated, waffled on saying more as his fingers toyed with the cut glass in his hands. "They're my best girls. This was kind of like it's their wedding, you know? Close as they'll ever get, anyway. I wanted to do something nice for them."

"Yeah, I know." Bill almost said that was a whole new side of Johnny, but it wasn't really. It was the same man who went out of his want to scrounge or barter little luxuries for his buddies alike. It was the same man who kept his own company but would always have Bill's back in a fight, who stood Bill cash when he was flat broke. For all that he scowled at the world like he was daring it to try him, Johnny was a romantic, deep down.

Johnny reached for the bottle again, but Bill snagged it out of his hand and took a swig right from it. He'd had enough to drink that he was feeling sentimental, and he should probably stop before he started feeling frisky, and thinking things like, hell, they were buddies, and maybe he should find out how the other half lived.

Bill wasn't going to do well in the army if he started that right away, and what if he liked it? Bill would rather keep those kinds of things simple. Besides, Johnny'd shown no sign of making a move, and Bill didn't want to chase if he weren't wanted, not with a buddy who he'd have to live with for the next God knew how long. It wasn't sensible. Still, Bill had to wonder.

They got most of the way through the bottle between them. Johnny was drinking silently and with a purpose, and Bill didn't want him to feel left out, so he kept up, or near enough. He did have enough sense to make them both drink a glass of water before they stumbled into bed, their arms around each other's shoulders for balance, dressed except for their jackets, ties and boots. Bill fell onto his back and Johnny collapsed on top of him, his nose digging into Bill's sternum, or maybe that was the other way around. The blanket was still mostly under them, and Bill quickly gave up on getting it over them.

Johnny was spread eagled, hands clutching at Bill's biceps, and his face now turned sideways so that his cheek was over Bill's heart.

"Johnny, you gotta," Bill started, before realising that he was out like a light already. "Ah, fuck, never mind." He shoved Johnny off of him, so that he was lying with his back to the wall. Bill could breathe again without the dead weight on his chest, and he managed to get part of the blanket over them.

Johnny rolled back again, burying his face in Bill's armpit and making a satisfied, sleepy sound. Bill probably should have objected to the leg Johnny threw over his hips, but it was warm and comfortable lying wrapped up together like that, and Bill couldn't be bothered to move or to complain. He patted Johnny's hair affectionately. He was a good friend to have, even if he was a fruit.

* * *

"Shake a leg. You're gonna miss your train!" Whatever Gina and Pat had gotten up to the night before, it hadn't involved polishing off a bottle of bootlegged whiskey between them, at least not based on the good cheer shattering through Bill's foggy brain as Gina yanked the curtains open.

Bill cracked an eyelid, and then closed it again as the light stabbed into his temples. Johnny was still exactly where he'd fallen asleep, clinging to Bill's side like only one of them had a 'chute. The blanket had fallen to the floor, leaving them a tangled mess of crumpled uniforms and untucked shirts. Bill was just glad neither had morning wood.

"I'm making a fry up," Gina added. "If you hurry, you can eat my ration of butter and eggs, as well as drink my booze."

"Kay," Johnny muttered into Bill's shirt, and didn't move.

"Come on, sunshine." Bill shoved Johnny off of him and rolled to his hands and knees on the floor. He figured from there it was just a matter of getting upright and into the shower. At least they didn't have to run Currahee that morning.

By the time Bill was out of the shower, Pat had come in too, and she and Gina were hip to hip in front of the stove arguing about how much pepper to put in whatever they were cooking. Johnny was standing at the table having been given eggs to beat, but mostly was watching his wife and sister with an expression of such incredible fondness that Bill stopped short when he saw it.

Johnny caught him looking and scowled, but a smile kept breaking through the edges. Pat took the bowl of eggs he'd stopped beating and batted him lightly on the back of the head. "You go shower, huh? Bill, can you set the table?"

And just like that, Johnny's odd little family opened and included Bill in its embrace. Their hands brushed as Pat passed him the plates, and Bill smiled at her. Then Gina snagged Pat by her apron strings, and pulled her in to kiss on the cheek. Bill's stomach twisted on seeing that, and he couldn't name the feeling behind it, so he looked away.

It seemed like it was that easy, like it would be getting folded into a dinner at his sister and her husband's place, less the kids chewing on his ankles, but that might yet come too. How, Bill didn't know, nor what two girls did together, though he did know he'd get a pretty good smack if he asked.

When Johnny came out of the shower and saw the three of them sitting at the table, the food in a bowl between them, he got that stupid soft look all over his face again, and this time he didn't even try to scowl. His hand brushed over Gina's shoulder as he passed her, then over Bill's. Johnny's fingers lingered for a moment on the back of Bill's neck, like he was making sure he was going to stay where Johnny had put him.

They dug in, decent home cooked food again, the last Bill would taste until the promised furlough at Christmas, and for once Bill listened to the chatter around him instead of talking. He didn't care about the words themselves, which were just a whole lot of nothing about shifts and rations and train schedules, but he liked their voices, the way they talked to each other.

"You been quiet," Johnny said as they tried to right their uniforms, after.

"Thinking, I guess," Bill told him.

"You hurt yourself?"

Bill balled up his tie and threw it at him, but it missed by a yard and grimaced at the waste of ironing. "Nah, I just... oh, never mind. It ain't nothing."

"Never is," Johnny grumbled, but Bill ignored him and went back to ironing the crease back into his trousers. For his part, Johnny had stopped dressing, and was watching Bill like he was trying to figure something out. It wasn't the wariness he'd shown before, more like curiosity.

"I got something on my face?" Bill demanded, and Johnny looked away.

"Time to go," was all Johnny said.

After Gina had dropped them off at the station, and they'd all hugged goodbye, even Bill, and the train had pulled out for Virginia and the winding trip back to Toccoa, Johnny put two fingers on Bill's elbow to get his attention. He waited until Bill met his eyes, then nodded slightly. Bill nodded back, and in that exchange there were words enough to cover everything between them.


End file.
